


a real american day out (okay maybe that’s a stereotype)

by girl412



Series: assigned ineffable at birth [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Arcades, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him pronouns for Crowley, Just good ole fun and frolicking all around, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Other, Post-Canon, Sassy Warlock, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), again this continues where the last installment left off, and then gets serious, but a good somber kind of serious, i mean 14 years is definitely a kid when youre like 6thou, this begins with a lot of silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 12:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21391882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl412/pseuds/girl412
Summary: Warlock's limiting Crowley's demonic miracles.Luckily, Crowley isn't playing anything to win.More questions are answered. More ice-cream is eaten.All in all, it's a pretty wonderful day.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling
Series: assigned ineffable at birth [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1469717
Comments: 43
Kudos: 340





	a real american day out (okay maybe that’s a stereotype)

**Author's Note:**

> absolute family fluff!!!!!!! way ahead of schedule!!!!!  
don't get used to early updates... i've got an educational trip thing next week and didn't want that to delay this so! here's your early slice of whatever this series is. 
> 
> with this update, if my maths isn't entirely wrong, the series's crossed 10k. wahoo!  
also, unfortunately, again: no aziraphale. but to make up for it, crowley waxes poetic about aziraphale a lot. specifically, about being in love with aziraphale. we stan one soft nonbinary snek demon
> 
> i have never been to america and it probably shows. please just roll with it, haha. ok. onwards!!!

Warlock, for what feels like the first time in months, walks with a spring in his step rather than the grouchy energy he normally goes for. He feels content and at peace next to Crowley, who’s sauntering like he’s trying to overdo being at a fashion show, which is so different from the whole Nanny Ashtoreth way of walking but much more natural and at ease. Warlock wants to ask about that, but he doesn’t. His hair flops over into his eyes and he moves it back. He watches Crowley walk over to a vending machine.

“Want anything, kid?” Crowley asks. “One of mine, vending machines are, you know.”

Warlock isn’t surprised. On more than one occasion, he’s resorted to kicking the machine, and one memorable time, trying to put his hand through the slot.

“I wouldn’t mind a soda or something,” Warlock says. “But, uh, maybe we can get ice-cream, too?”

Crowley hums, buys them both 7Ups and tosses a can at Warlock, who catches it easily.

They walk into the arcade, and Warlock grabs Crowley’s hand again, tugging him over to the Pinball machine.

“There’s just one rule for you to follow,” he says. “No magic.”

Crowley makes a face. “Come on, hellspawn,” he says. “That’s hardly fair.”

“Of course it’s fair,” Warlock says, amused. “How can I compete with you if you’re cheating?”

“M a demon, it’s in the job description,” Crowley murmurs, popping open his can of soda and taking a generous gulp. “Honestly though, I don’t know if I can even play without cheating.”

“You can learn how,” Warlock says, even more amused. “Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport, he says,” Crowley mutters. But he ruffles Warlock’s hair fondly, so it’s alright.

-

“You’re good at this,” Crowley admits three rounds later.

“Nah, you’re just horrible at it,” Warlock says cheekily. “Then again, you are a demon. You’re probably bad at everything.”

“I brought you up well, didn’t I,” Crowley says, amused despite himself. “So. What next?”

“Let’s play every game in this arcade.”

“Argh, _no._” Looking at Warlock’s expression, Crowley can’t help but feel his conviction waver. “Fine, fine. But can I have one _teeny tiny _miracle? Just a little one?”

“Maybe when we’re playing the snake game, because I’m nice,” Warlock says. “But other than that, no.”

“Satan give me strength.”

“Nanny, some old lady just looked at you weirdly.”

“I get that a lot,” Crowley admits. Warlock looks smug, so for the child’s benefit, he adds, “Plus I’m probably a hundred times her age, so what does she know, really.” 

-

“Oh, a claw machine! I love these!”

“Just one miracle?”

“Nanny…..”

“I just want to get you the snake, dearie. Not, like. Hell forbid, a frog or something.”

“What’s wrong with frogs?”

“Nothing, nothing! It’s just,” Crowley lowers his voice dramatically. “They’re Duke Hastur’s animal.”

“Fursona? The Duke of Hell has a Fursona?”

“Warlock, no, honey, that’s not how it works – ”

Warlock cackles with glee.

-

One toy snake miraculously won from the game and now slung around Warlock’s shoulders later, they’re at the bowling alley.

“Warlock,” Crowley says, watching the boy as he picks up a ball expertly and carefully takes position. “I don’t think I can do this without a miracle.”

“Why not?”

“I might not even be able to pick up the bowling ball, if we’re being honest.”

“But Nanny, you’re strong! I remember that! You could always pick me up with one arm, and once you tossed me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes!”

“Yeah, uh, about that,” Crowley says. “Those were miracles. I’m not actually physically strong.”

“I don’t believe you,” Warlock says, expertly bowling and knocking down 7 pins. “You must be strong. You have to be.”

“Warlock, muffin,” Crowley says patiently. “My original form was a snake. Without miracles, I’m as strong as an earthworm.”

“Huh,” Warlock says.

-

“I can’t believe you killed my snake!” Crowley exclaims. “You….. hooligan!”

“Nanny, I’m sorry,” Warlock says, trying to keep a straight face. “I’m so sorry. Honest.”

“That’s practically a hate crime, young man!”

“Nanny….”

“We are _never _playing Slither.io again!”

Warlock unwinds the toy snake from his shoulders and carefully drapes it around Crowley’s shoulders. He needs to stand on his toes in order to do this.

“Okay, do you feel better now?” he asks.

Crowley exhales loudly and dramatically, a sort of pffft noise that Warlock didn’t know people outside books were even capable of making.

“It’s so obvious that Aziraphale raised you too,” he murmurs, but it’s fond. “Do you want to go get ice-cream?”

-

They both sit at a table in the café, Warlock with an extra-large sundae and Crowley with a tiny raspberry scoop of something, in a wafer cup.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” Warlock says.

Crowley bites into the wafer cup, hears the satisfying crunch. “Hmm?”

“How did you know you were in love with Aziraphale?”

Crowley gets the feeling that this isn’t what Warlock wanted to ask, initially, but based off how bashful the child seems to be, he doesn’t question him.

“Uh, well,” Crowley says, instead. “Er.”

“You don’t have to answer that!” Warlock says, suddenly uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to ask you to share something too personal. It’s just, you go really soft when you talk about him, you know?”

“I do _not_,” Crowley hisses, but it’s not a very threatening hiss.

“You _do_,” Warlock hisses back.

Crowley smiles despite himself (wow, he _really _loves this kid.)

“You’re actual hellspawn, you know that?” Crowley asks, helping himself to a spoon of his ice-cream.

“Must be, I mean, you’re a demon and you’re practically my mother,” Warlock points out.

Crowley makes an incoherent noise somewhere between “ngk” and “mfgk”.

“Okay, spill. You and Aziraphale. What, when, how long?” Warlock asks, leaning back, in anticipation of a long and rambling response.

“Oh, well,” Crowley says. “I think I knew I’d fall in love with him from the first time I spoke to him. Which does sound horribly cliché, yeah, but I was a fallen angel, you know, I’d had pretty bad experiences with their lot. But Aziraphale wasn’t like that, he wasn’t full of himself like other angels. Most angels lord God’s grace over people who don’t have that, expect fear from demons and awe from humans. Aziraphale didn’t expect anything from me. And he gave his flaming sword away, he disobeyed direct orders because he couldn’t stand to see suffering, and he sheltered me under his wing during the first rain, when neither of us knew what rain even was. I don’t know if I fell in love with him then, but that was the moment I knew that I wanted him in my life, forever.”

“Oh,” Warlock says. It’s a little awed.

“I met him in Rome again, around 40AD,” Crowley continues. “That’s when I knew I loved him. I was in a pretty bad mood. Had to tempt Emperor Caligula into certain deeds, but he seemed to be doing pretty evilly on his own, without any interference from me. It felt rather unrewarding, you know. My job, my impact on people, all of that.”

Warlock nods, waiting for Crowley to continue.

Crowley eats another spoon of ice-cream.

“I’ve never regretted being a demon,” he says thoughtfully. “Never felt like I needed redemption or anything. I stood for what I believed in, and if lack of Unwavering Faith was enough to send me right out of God’s good Graces, it’s fine, I wouldn’t have it any other way. But being surrounded by suffering and sinning all the time gets exhausting. You start to internalize it, sometimes. You think, oh, maybe all I’m good for is making people unhappy.”

“That’s not true,” Warlock interrupts, softly. “That’s not who _you _are.”

“Well, it was 41AD,” Crowley says. “I was still a baby then.”

Warlock smirks, and picks a cherry out of his sundae, dropping it into Crowley’s cup.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Crowley says, taking the cherry and swallowing it whole. “Er, yeah, so. Aziraphale showed up at the tavern I was in, literally drinking my sorrows away. And to my immense surprise, he seemed happy to see me. Not only that, he seemed to want my company, despite my being in an utter sulk. He wanted us to dine together, he even had a place in mind. And I realised then, I think, that I was in love with him. That I’d been in love for him for who knows how long.”

“Huh,” Warlock says, thoughtfully.

Crowley has more ice-cream, and they’re both silent for a minute.

Crowley breaks the silence, continuing, “It’s easy to be around someone when they’re in a good mood, when they’re being pleasant. Being around someone when they’re in a sulk? It’s nobody’s first choice, really. You only do that for people who you really care about. The fact that he was willing to do that for me, to be there for me,” he pauses, bites off some wafer from the cup. “Well, it meant a lot.”

Warlock nods. “It’s like, actively choosing somebody,” he says. “It’s like, saying, I like _all _of you, not just the nice bits.”

“Exactly!” Crowley says. “I’d never had that before him.”

Warlock stirs the remnants of his ice-cream with a spoon, and then tips his cup up, drinking it like a milkshake.

“So,” he says. “Did you start dating in Rome, or?”

“Ah, no,” Crowley says, a tiny smile on his face. “We were on opposite sides, after all. We were meant to be sworn enemies and all that. If they’d found out we were friends, we would’ve gotten into so much trouble, sort of like what happened after we averted the Apocalypse.”

“From your narrative, it doesn’t sound like you really did anything,” Warlock points out.

“You’re right, I suppose,” Crowley says. “We just happened to be there, wrong place, wrong time, standing next to each other, smiling.”

“So you got together when?” Warlock asks, intrigued.

“Why are you so invested?”

“Because you’re both literally my parents,” Warlock says, rolling his eyes. “All kids want to know how their parents, you know. Became a single unit.”

Crowley rolls his eyes right back, before remembering that the sunglasses sort of ruin the effect.

“Right after the Apocalypse, but before the trials,” Crowley says. “We took the bus to my place, and I fell asleep on his shoulder and drooled on his coat. And Aziraphale, who you probably wouldn’t have guessed because you only knew him as Francis, well, he’s really particular about the state of his clothes. He didn’t even seem to care that I’d ruined one of his favourites.”

“Okay,” Warlock prompts, gesturing with his hands for Crowley to get on with it.

“Patience, hellspawn, I’m condensing millennia just for you,” Crowley says. “Anyway, we got to my flat, I apologized for drooling on him, he said _Crowley, that hardly matters, _and then we got talking, and he kissed me, and.” Crowley smiles, looking very proud of himself. “Husbandhood achieved.”

“Husbandhood is the word for it?” Warlock asks. “Sorry if that’s intrusive, I mean. Aren’t you not always a man?”

“Yeah,” Crowley agrees. “Husbandhood is not always the word for it. But Aziraphale’s primarily male-presenting, so it’s safe to say he’s my husband almost all the time. What I am to him, well, that changes. But I don’t mind being called his husband even when I’m not having a masc day. It’s just one of those words that despite having a gendered connotation I’m okay with being called. Sure, sometimes I have other preferences. But uh. Husbandhood as a word is fine. Did that make sense?”

“A little,” Warlock says. “But it’s _your _gender expression, it doesn’t need to make sense to _me. _Can we buy cotton candy?”

“Call it candyfloss like a normal person,” Crowley grumbles, but he doesn’t say no.

-

The handkerchief makes a second appearance, this time involving Crowley wiping pink sugary stuff off Warlock’s chin and mouth. Warlock is old enough to do this himself, a fact that both him and Crowley are aware of, but are happy to ignore.

Sometimes it’s nice to be babied.

-

“I don’t want to go home,” Warlock murmurs, as they watch the sun set together, sitting on a bench and not doing anything in particular.

“I know, dove,” Crowley says. “I _know. _But I’ll meet you tomorrow, with Aziraphale, yeah?”

Warlock nods, but his eyes well up with tears despite his trying to control them.

“I had so much fun today,” he says softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun in my life.” His voice breaks a little on the sentence.

“Oh, Warlock, my darling,” Crowley croons, gently cocooning him in a hug. “That makes me so happy to hear.”

“I don’t want it to end,” he says into Crowley’s shoulder. And then, he lets himself cry.

Crowley’s grip on him tightens. “I know, my sweet. But you have a curfew, and if you’re not back on time your dad’s agents will likely throw me in prison, you know that right?”

Warlock makes a noise that sounds like a wet chuckle.

“Besides, I think the taxi we’ve called is here,” Crowley says.

Warlock looks up, and indeed it is.

He detaches himself from Crowley reluctantly, but to his surprise, Crowley holds his hand and walks him up to the taxi. And then, as Warlock watches, Crowley opens the door and sits inside, waiting for Warlock to join him.

“What – you – ”

“I’m dropping you off,” Crowley says. There’s no space for argument in his voice. “Not like I have anywhere else to be right now, anyway.”

“Aziraphale?”

“We have dinner reservations for later tonight, but it’s much later. I can drop you and make it back on time.” Crowley opens his arms, as if asking for a hug, and Warlock complies, entering the cab and sitting with his entire body pressed up against Crowley’s, who wraps his arms and the toy snake around Warlock snugly.

Neither of them talk on the way back, and if there’s slightly more traffic than usual – not enough to make Warlock miss his curfew, but certainly enough to make the ride longer than usual, well. What’s one demonic miracle in a fleet of thousands?

**Author's Note:**

> can't remember what the end note i'd planned was, but like. when i think of how many people love this series and are invested in updates or whatever i get really soft inside. thank u for making a home for this in your heart and all that. @ everyone who's commented, kudosed, subscribed, bookmarked or otherwise reached out to me to say that this made a difference to them - it means the world. thank you. 
> 
> if you want to sue me over the cavities from this one, tumblr @ botanicallycrowley, twitter @ gothzabini. and of course, good old comments box right down below. 
> 
> much love to everyone. it's 11.11, make a wish. hope everyone is having an okay monday <3


End file.
